Draco's Desire
by marina7070
Summary: He thought he knew what he wanted. He thought he knew his heart's deepest desire. But, apparently, he didn't quite know what his heart actually wanted. And he would be shocked when he really found out.


**Draco's Desire**

He thought he knew what he wanted. He thought he knew his heart's deepest desire. He thought he knew that all he wanted was for his mother and father to approve of him. He thought he knew that he didn't want a girl. He thought that he would be better off on his own. He thought he hated her and wanted her to escape from his life forever. But, apparently, he didn't quite know what his heart actually wanted. And he would be shocked when he really found out.

Draco Malfoy went into the Room of Requirement a lot in his sixth year at Hogwarts. He didn't like it - he never truly wanted to kill anyone. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He didn't want to be a murderer. But if he wanted his family and him to survive, he would have to be a murderer. And he couldn't complain no matter what.

One night, he came across a mirror. He didn't think it was special; it was just a mirror, he thought. Mirrors didn't do anything special. Especially not this one, with a large crack running down the middle and pieces chipped away. It didn't even stand on its own; it leaned against a stack of leather chairs and couches, all red. It couldn't have been magic, Draco thought. It couldn't have been anything special. There was absolutely no way.

When he looked into the right side of the cracked mirror, he saw his mother and his father standing beside him. His pale head swiveled around - surely, it couldn't have worked already, it couldn't! - but he saw no one there. Not a single other soul. Curious, Draco turn back to the mirror, and his parents were still there. He cocked his head in confusion. What was this thing?

Maybe it was a hexed mirror. Maybe it had been jinxed so it showed those who you felt closest to. For Draco, that would be his family, of course - even though his father was a tad bit strict he still loved him. Yes, it was probably just that. Maybe the stupid Weasley twins jinxed it before they ran off and started the stupid joke shop in stupid Diagon Alley where they sold stupid items that were incredibly stupid. Idiots. Nothing could fool Draco Malfoy; not even a stupid mirror.

He decided that he should check if the mirror was actually jinxed by inspecting the other side. With a little foolish wave at his parents (he felt like a prat when waving and when he finished he turned around to make sure not a single soul saw him), he stepped over so he was facing the left side completely. He closed his eyes - he wanted to pretend it was a surprise when he saw his mirror parents once again and knew his suspicions were confirmed. With a cool breath out, he opened his eyes.

At first, he saw nothing. Nothing. Just him and the room. He watched his pointed features, making sure it wasn't him that was going to change. Still nothing. He looked around the room. Maybe the hex didn't work if someone else was around? Thinking that this was indeed the case, Draco tentatively walked around the small clearing, peering behind boxes and moving chairs and standing on tip-toes to look over things, but there wasn't anything anywhere.

With a sigh, Draco turned back to the mirror, only to see a figure. Not a male figure; a female figure. Very far away, at the end of the aisle to his back right. Slowly, he turned around. No one was there. He turned to face the mirror again. She was getting closer and closer by the second. Who it was, he didn't know, but it was a girl. He knew it for sure.

While he waited for her to get closer, he inspected the words arching over the mirror, something that he hadn't noticed before. The words, _Mirror of Erised. _He arched a pale eyebrow and nervously played with his fingers.

When she arrived in the clearing, she didn't hesitate before walking calmly over to Draco and standing beside him. Her bushy brown hair and dark brown eyes look odd against his platinum blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Next to her, he was a ghost. A ghost who had absolutely no clue of what was going on and was desperately trying to focus on his thoughts.

No. There was positively no way he could like that muggle-born. That mudblood. That pathetic know-it-all with hideously high hair. That loser who hung out with Potty and the Weasel. That girl who had punched him in the face in third year and basically said he was talentless in the second. The girl who made him feel like a complete and utter jerk. And he hated her for it.

He tried to fend her off; he slapped his shoulder when she put her hand on it and tried to elbow her in the face. But she wouldn't budge. In fact, it made her get closer and closer to him each time. But there was a difference as his attacks increased; she started to look sad, weary. Like she couldn't believe he was doing what he was doing. And he got sadder once she got sadder. He soon stopped his attacks.

He sat on the floor with his legs crossed and stared at his shoes. He started to examine his recent behavior. He remembered that her hair didn't look so bushy on some days. He remembered that whenever she was sitting alone in the library or the Great Hall he felt compelled to sit with her. He remembered that he often caught himself staring at her mouth, wondering what it would be like to kiss her lips. He remembered feeling the urge to help her as well when she argued with Potty or the Weasel. He remembered catching himself straightening his hair in class when she glanced in his direction. He remembered writing her name on parchment when he didn't notice. He remembered smiling whenever he thought of her voice, or just thought of her face.

Maybe he didn't really hate her, after all.

Maybe she was what he truly desired.


End file.
